


there's nothing wrong with the rain

by eggcelsior



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Andreil, Coffee, Fluff and Angst, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Soft Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, king just wants attention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-20 05:56:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16131059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eggcelsior/pseuds/eggcelsior
Summary: Neil had never had many good memories of the rain. He was a bubbling cauldron of just plain bad. But maybe the rain didn’t have to stand for just bad things.orNeil remembers his life on the run but Andrew helps.





	there's nothing wrong with the rain

**Author's Note:**

> yes my title is just dodie lyrics
> 
> mentions of beatings

Storms had started to appear at Palmetto State University more frequently since summer ended. They were the kind that darkened the air, and sat brewing angrily in the sky all day, until all at once water was crashing down in torrents. Then water would fill every crack in the pavement and leave the air smelling vaguely metallic. At first Neil had been surprised – summer had seemed never ending and according to Matt there were never usually this many, but Neil didn’t mind too much.

Neil was finishing making coffee for him and Andrew when the rain came again that week, as promised by the weary looking weather man. He stopped stirring sugar and peered towards the window. The sky looked so angry today. Next thing he knew, Neil had dragged a chair to the window and was perched quietly watching his wisps of breath spread across the glass. Thin fingers traced the path of water downwards. A faint mew behind him told Neil that either King or Sir wanted attention, but Neil didn’t move. He was transfixed.

Neil had never had many good memories of the rain.

When he was 8, he had sat and watched as water dribbled down the window. He traced the pattern and willed himself to drown out the screams. He didn’t know who it was today, but Neil didn’t want to know. Ignorance was bliss as they said. As the rain got louder, so did the wails. Fingers went in ears but of course nothing would work, and the pleas would make his head throb for hours to come.

When he was 10, he had stared helplessly at his mother as she yanked strands of soaking hair out of her eyes. Usually, he wouldn’t hold his eye contact for too long, because he never wanted to provoke anyone, but _mum what are we going to do?_ They didn’t have a house and they didn’t have a bed; all they had now was each other and this dingy bus stop. Neil felt so numb. Finally, Mary caught him staring and looked at him with those hard, determined eyes. They weren’t his and they weren’t his dads and that alone made him feel more protected. They were far from safe, but they had each other.

When he was 14, Neil let his mum hit him until she was satisfied, as fat droplets splashed onto his nose from the tree above. His face stung as the wind wheezed and hissed, but Neil tried not to flinch too much. He had wanted to blame the girl, but this was his fault, not hers. She had come to talk to him, but he had stayed. Don’t get attached, that was one of the rules. There weren’t many, so why was it that he hadn’t followed them? When Mary was done, she sighed. _You can’t be interested in girls_ she had muttered. _Love will change you for the worse_ she had said. The words were barely loud enough to hear over the water cascading from above, but Neil understood. She didn’t say more, but she didn’t have to; Neil nodded and followed as his mother started to step out into the storm.

When he was 17, his world stopped. It hadn’t been moving much to begin with, but now everything had ground to a halt, quickly enough for Neil to feel sick to his stomach. Neil was aware that he was walking, but walking where? Where was he going? What was he going to do? What was his plan now that he was alone? _Alone._ He was alone now. He had felt emptiness before, but he had never been alone to deal with it. His mum was gone and now Neil was expected to keep running.

_I didn’t want to leave you._

Neil peered meekly onto the concrete in front of him.

_I didn’t want to bury you._

He was vaguely aware of spits of rain starting to fall onto his old trainers.

_I didn’t want to be his._

He had to keep running. He would keep moving, changing his identity, dyeing his hair, faking his accent. He would keep going like a machine, until there was nothing left. He would keep running, because that was what he had promised.

And now here Neil was, at 20 years old, staring at the rain again. He was broken, he knew that. His head was a bubbling cauldron of bad memories and bad habits, that had their own scars to match. But now things were better, and he had good memories to snuff out the bad.  

Neil felt a warm hand on his neck and turned slightly. Andrew stood, his small stature relaxed in a way that only Neil seemed to be able to read properly. He had a questioning look on his face that told Neil that he knew what Neil was thinking.

“Your coffee is on the table.” Neil jerked his chin towards the kitchen counter, pointedly ignoring the eyes boring into him. Andrew bent so that their faces were level.

“Stop it.” he said quietly, as if it was that simple. His features were expressionless, but there was softness to his eyes that made Neil break a bit. He let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding and leaned into the touch of Andrew tracing his cheeks. Although their lips were close enough to touch, neither of closed the gap. Neil felt content and relaxed just studying Andrew and letting him study his face, knowing that he was there, and he understood. Neither of them needed words, just something to ground them and they had each other. That was enough.

Yes, Neil was a bubbling cauldron of nervousness and hate, but he was at home here. There was no more need for running because Neil was home.

Neil felt the truth of his words as he whispered, “I’m ok”. Andrews expression seemed to relax a bit more; he saw a flash of emotions cross his eyes.

“Good” was the only word spoken.

_He was ok._

**Author's Note:**

> Any critism would be greatly appreciated, I am aware that I'm pretty shit.  
> My tumblr is egg-celsior just an fyi


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